


Give Up the World

by ask_twbwy



Series: The World Begins With You [3]
Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Death, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Spoilers, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4661184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ask_twbwy/pseuds/ask_twbwy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll never forget that day… We were set to meet up at the usual spot. I asked him to come. I was waiting in front of the CAT mural… but he never came. Only later did I hear about the accident. I was so mad. Then I felt awful… I shouldn’t have asked him there. If not for me, he’d still be here… It’s like I killed him. My one real friend…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Up the World

**Author's Note:**

> Written by: Kazea

“Hey, did you hear?”

Down in the sunlit backstreets of Udagawa, a boy of twelve peered up from his current art project to whatever it was that had signaled for his attention. With a big, goofy grin, the puny kid next to him thrust a paper straight into his face, more than eager to put his creativity on hold for whatever stupid thing he wanted to share.

“CAT just released these wicked cool headphones!” his friend exclaimed, chuckling excitedly at the flyer he’d ripped off of some wall on the way over. “They’re only making a limited amount, so they’re gonna be super rare. Isn’t it awesome?”

The near teen observed the poster, which appeared to be a promotion held by Towa Records. Its colors were eye-catching—crafted to guide the interest of passersby, he figured. The product itself had a nice appeal as well. They were smooth and modern with an adjustable size. Wireless, too. Not that it surprised him. CAT wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfection.

Able to pick up on his silent agreement, the boy added, “They’re hosting a contest, y'know? Winner gets one of these sick babies for  _free!"_ ”

“Really?” the other questioned, his spiky orange locks of hair swaying with the motions of his head.

“Yeah! Just gotta submit your best design.” Tugging out the blue earbuds lodged into his ears, he spun on the concrete and said, “We should enter!”

“Get real, Souma.”

“What?!”

Frowning flatly, the artist waved out an arm at their surroundings. “There’s thousands of people in Shibuya and only two of us. What makes you think we’d  _ever_ have a chance in something like that?”

“Geez… See? That’s your problem, Neku. You’re way too pessimistic,” Souma moped. He dipped his turquoise eyes down to the sketchpad in his friend’s lap, his scruffy onyx bangs unable to conceal the zealous sparkle behind them. “Though, you  _are_ really good. C'mon! With your skills, I bet we could win. It’ll be easy!”

“With  _my_ skills?” Neku raised an eyebrow. “Get your own damn skills.”

“You know my stuff blows. We wouldn’t win jack with my scribbles. Besides, I’m sure they won’t notice if we submit two of your designs!”

“Right. ‘Cause an artistic expert like CAT’s not going to notice entries with two virtually similar styles.”

“W-well… They might not! You’re an art genius, too! You could totally hide it.”

“I’m really not.” Truthfully, it made Neku happy to hear the praise. His small collection of abstract doodles and sketches weren’t anything to rave about, but he didn’t think they sucked, either. Souma seemed to like them, at least. “These aren’t anything special.”

“Sure they are,” he argued. “I barely understand where you get this stuff from, but it’s amazing! I bet these would look killer up on a wall somewhere!”

“Now you’re just kissing ass,” Neku mumbled, bashfully rubbing the back of his head.

“It’s not ass-kissing if it’s true.” Souma gushed at the all the drawings littering the open sketchbook, some easy to read, like animals, and some more surreal with no strict pattern. “Who knows? You might even be the next CAT!”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m serious, Neku. You’re so good at everything!”

“I’m not trying to be good at anything,” he insisted. “I’m awful at just as many things.”

“Hm. Yeah, that’s true.” Souma dwelled on the thought before admitting, “I mean, just look at all your crappy social skills.”

After a playful push from Neku which got them laughing for a bit, the two friends fell to silence, one sketching, one admiring, and both daydreaming. Under the mural in Udagawa, it was easy to find inspiration. The graffiti’s many insightful insignias absorbed people—almost like it called out and encouraged the imaginations of anyone creative enough to appreciate it. Awash in reds, blues, and blacks, Neku found that he could get lost in the mural for hours. CAT, unlike most people, truly deserved his respect.

“Say… Remember when we first met?”

“Huh?” Neku blinked, once again snatched away from his incessant habit of spacing out. “That came outta nowhere…”

“Do you or don’t you?”

“I do… unfortunately.” He tore out his newest drawing and snapped his sketchbook shut, casually throwing in, “You wouldn’t stop talking. It was really annoying.”

“Haha. Real funny.” Souma gave his arm a soft punch, taking no offense to the remark. “I’m glad I got through to you, though… That was a good day.”

“Yeah… My mom never shuts up about how going to the park that summer was the best decision she’s ever made. It’s like the only thing that keeps her grounded.”

“Speaking of which, you should probably head home before your father flips again,” Souma pointed out, dusting off his pale white jacket. “You know how he gets.”

His father. Like he needed a reminder. Grumbling, Neku muttered, “Dad’ll flip anyway. Doesn’t really matter.”

“Sorry you can’t stay over… Soon as my dad finds a new job, things should be less hectic.”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s cool.”

They began packing up their belongings, pencils and markers in one bag and various school supplies in another. In the midst of cleaning up, though, Souma stopped, causing Neku to pause.

“Um… Can I have that?”

At first, Neku wasn’t sure what he meant. He traced his gaze down Souma’s line of sight until it met the picture he’d finished earlier. “…This?”

“Yeah.” Souma clapped his hands together, smiling with the widest, most pleading eyes he could muster. “Please?”

Neku narrowed a suspicious glare. “You aren’t going to try selling it off or something, are you?”

“Of course not!” He stomped his foot, only to put a hand to his chin, considering. “Though that’s not a bad idea. How much do you think you’re worth?”

“Not happening.”

“W-wait! I was just kidding—”

Souma cut himself short when Neku shoved the picture towards him in a manner similar to how he’d shown Neku the flyer earlier. He tried to get a look at his friend’s face, though Neku stubbornly fixed his focus elsewhere in typical Neku fashion. “Fine. Here. Just quit whining.”

The other boy beamed at the opportunity, more than happy to take it off his hands. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

“Yeah yeah… I’m gonna go, but I’ll be back here tomorrow…” Smiling a little, Neku asked, “See you there?”

In response, Souma nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

They stuck by each other on the way out of Udagawa, but split when it came time to say goodbye. After that, the month just seemed to fly by in a flash of routine. Neku woke up, got dressed, and reported to breakfast when his father had ordered it. Classes went fine. Clubs did, too. Every day after school, he’d meet Souma at the usual place. They’d talk, hang out, then part ways. It’d become a sort of ritual for them, one they never skipped out on.

That is, until  _that_ day came.

Neku hadn’t been in a rush to Udagawa, per say—he’d just wanted to get away from the stress his parents had been giving him lately. So, as usual, he texted an invite to Souma who, despite having gotten sick the previous week, agreed to come spend time with him. Naturally, Neku arrived first and waited.

An hour passed. He sat, still waiting.

Two hours passed. He busied himself drawing, still waiting.

Four hours passed. He began to feel uneasy, yet still, he waited.

Five hours passed. Souma hadn’t returned any of his texts or calls, enough of an incentive for Neku to quit waiting.

But he probably should’ve waited—probably shouldn’t have tried looking. His search amounted to nothing, and the time wasted on it treaded far into the night. Cold, tired, and angry, Neku eventually gave up, wondering why Souma hadn’t shown. Something didn’t add up; Souma never ditched without a reason. This had been the first time anything like this had happened.

When he got back to his apartment complex in Tipsy Tose Hall, the foreboding atmosphere of the building made him uneasy. Past the stairs and across from the den, he could hear his mother crying in the kitchen. Neku assumed his father had upset her again, though when he walked in to check, he was surprised to find her sitting at the dining room table by herself, a phone in hand.

“Mom…?”

Her head bolted up, followed quickly by her whole body. Neku stumbled and gawked up at her when she squeezed him in a tight hug, utterly baffled by her behavior. “N-Neku… I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry?” He didn’t understand, and she drew away in a pained attempt to explain. Her quivering words told a story that seemed to avoid its actual point. Something about an accident, a lowlife crook—things that had apparently taken place near where he’d just been. He stood there listening to the grim news, unaware that his world was about to shatter. Even as the truth slipped out of her mouth in choked sobs, he couldn’t accept it. All he could do was sink to the floor in disbelief.

Souma had died.

Now, Neku lay on his bed, his steel blue eyes cold and empty with grief. He hadn’t gone to school in three weeks, something his father had become increasingly displeased with. It’d gotten to the point where every day when he got home from work, he could hear him and his mother downstairs arguing over what to do with him. Their ear-chewing debates dragged on for hours each night, and it really amazed him how three weeks of screaming could feel like three years of torture.

Dejected, he rolled over on his side, unable to see anything around him with his room being so bleak. For once, he had no music playing from his stereo, and the blinds were closed. The skylight, too, had the shutters stretched over it for the first time since he’d moved to this apartment, leaving the area completely dark and desolate.

Why did this have to happen? Life couldn’t be that unfair. Souma wasn’t the smartest guy. In fact, he was an idiot, but he’d had a lot going for him. He’d left behind lots of friends. His family did nothing but support him. His music mixing was off the charts. Not to mention, he’d been a good enough person to put up with someone like him since childhood. So how could someone do that to him? How could  _anyone_ do that to  _anybody_ else? The justice system had also failed him. The whole incident had been labeled a tragic, but unintentional mistake, and the culprit—no, murderer—hadn’t been charged with the death he had caused.

He didn’t get it. People made no sense. And now, he was starting to hate them, too.

As if seeking to quell his increasingly jaded thoughts, his door creaked open, letting in a thin crack of light from the outside hallway. Neku didn’t turn to face it in fear of his father standing there. The last thing he needed was another lecture on “getting over loss.”

“Neku?” His mother’s voice—thank hell. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you have a package.”

A package? Unenthused, yet intrigued, the boy rolled over to sneak a peek. Indeed, there was a relatively large package in her hands. Kaiya offered it with a kind smile.

“I’m not sure what it is, but maybe it’ll cheer you up?”

In his mind, “doubt it” echoed furiously from one corner to the next. He said nothing, though, as he forced himself to sit up for her. His mother’s smile sunk, and she walked over to sit on the bed next to her son, gently rubbing his back. “At least try to cheer up… Okay? I’ll bring dinner soon. Don’t worry about school, either.”

He managed little more than a single, solitary nod. Kaiya waited an extra minute, just in case, but when he made no further attempt to speak, she simply kissed his head, then stood and left.

Neku stared down at the brown box in his lap, unable to make out much from the vague postal information labeled on the outside. Rattling it didn’t reveal much, either. It wasn’t heavy, though from what he could tell, someone had already opened the package and had re-taped it. Sighing, he decided to bite, if only to humor it. Not like he had anything to lose.

Soon as the flaps parted, his hands froze.

Inside the box, carefully bedded between fat strips of bubble wrap, were a pair of sleek, purple headphones.

Neku stared at them, unsure of what to do—unsure of what to think. Why had  _these_ shown up at his house? A note tucked into side of the box caught his attention, and he shakily snagged the scrap of paper, unfolding each corner.

“Neku,” it read, “look what came in the mail! Surprise! It’s the headphones I showed you, remember? Sorry. I probably should’ve just given them your address, but I really wanted to see them before surprising you. I told you we’d win if I used something you drew!”

_…S-Souma…_

“I know I should’ve told you that’s what I wanted your drawing for, but I knew you’d never submit to a contest unless I tricked you into it. You’re so lazy, man. It’s a waste of your talent!”

_…_

“Anyway, since it was your design, you should keep the prize. They’re pretty sweet, right? They’re even wireless! You don’t need a cord or anything to listen to stuff. I know how much you’ve needed new ones anyway. You always get so antsy when you’re not listening to something.

Listen though, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should start going to places more social? I heard there’s a really cool festival going on soon. We could meet some new people. You need more friends. Getting you a girlfriend might be fun, too, though I’m never sure what kinds of girls you like. Everyone I introduce you to always seems to hate you.

I know you’ll probably be mad at me, but don’t worry, okay? It won’t change anything. We’ll always be best friends, no matter wh—”

 _Crunch._ The paper crumpled in an instant, smashed between the incredible force of Neku’s trembling fingers. His teeth were locked together in a fierce, frustrated grit, eyes hidden under the fringe of his bangs as wet trails of tears carved their way down his face. The salty droplets burned his skin before leaking onto the ravaged note, and without a second thought, the distraught adolescent hurled the paper across the room, refusing to read any more.

_You promised you’d be there… That promise… Did it kill you?_

Every word hurt. Every syllable stung. He couldn’t stand it—he could only cry.

 _Did_ I _kill you?_

A few minutes passed by, and he picked up on the faint, familiar sound of the door from downstairs. His father, no doubt, as an uproar occurred within moments of his arrival. His mother’s meek defense chimed in against the yelling until the quiet became muddled with yet another frustrating disagreement. Neku, already close to his breaking point, covered his ears in a futile attempt to shield himself from it. He just wanted it to go away, but  _how?_

The headphones.

He stood to grab a white MP3 player from his desk. It was an older model, but not so old that it wouldn’t hook up to the signal from the headset. He quickly synced them, then slipped the padded circles over his aching ears. Fortunately, they were a comfortable brand, and they fit his head perfectly. Music soon poured out of them, and slowly but surely, the racket of reality began to tune out.

Until finally, the noise stopped.  
  
* * * * * * *

_Outta my face!_

_You’re blocking my view._

Two years later, and Neku still walked the streets alone. Just him, himself, and no one else. As always, the people of Shibuya were loud and irritating. They made nothing but noise. Horrible, selfish noise that disgusted his very core.

_Shut up!_

_Stop talking._

Like hell they would. They never did. He put on his headphones to block out their annoying clamor.

_Just go the hell away!_

Though his songs drowned out all other sounds, Neku ducked into an alleyway to skip the crowds. He didn’t want to deal with them if he didn’t have to. Lucky for him, he knew plenty of shortcuts by now.

_All the world needs is me._

Only when he arrived at the usual spot did he relax, gazing fondly up at the mural he so adored. The one Souma had loved, too, even if it was his invitation to this very mural that had killed him.

_I got my values._

But then, something strange happened. More commotion? No… A boy. Running.

_So you can keep yours… alright?_

The frantic kid was carrying a gun—a loaded gun. A gun that, to Neku’s absolute shock, soon rose to meet his face—

_I don’t get people._

–and fired with a deafening  _bang_.

_Never have. Never will._


End file.
